


Madness

by xsupremwx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Alan Rickman Tribute, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xsupremwx/pseuds/xsupremwx
Summary: Madness;  expression of lack of judgment, common sense, tact.  Nonsense;  behavior, action or saying of the crazy, insane, insane person.Helena lost her sanity in the moment that allowed her stupid brain to continue fantasizing about her extremely bastard and sensual boss.
Relationships: John Gissing/ Original Female Characters, Severus Snape/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	Madness

There were still no half day when his fingers flew directly to that new nervous search, pushing the roles to be archived from his clean bench and guarding them carefully at that last unoccupied drawer, if she was lucky enough and willpower, The search engine smiled at her inside the thick led screen lit in an almost bluish tone, his fingers froze for almost a second, hanging in the air as they flew to the blackboards and turned his anxiety into palpable glass.

It turns out that when Helena moved to London she did not expect to have to take a job of half a period to pay her bills, it's not like she had come from a rich enough family to play her presentable apartment with blue walls and that her beautiful vintage dresser with maçane It was not the job that bothered her, she had no problems in waking up early enough to prepare her documents and divide between studying and archiving those newly closed contracts, sit in front of a computer with her permanently hard butt against the cold upholstered chairman was not the The entire environment was quite pleasant in most days, on the days that the partners were not promoting mass murders in the middle of the building's living room or when there was no eyebrow guillotine being erected for some employee who would automatically be seen running to the elev In the rest of the time he only hung up that dense and inflammatory mist of boredom over the illuminated corridors, which was a comforting thing when he was not consuming his skin as a quickly pulling her for more and more inside that gray world of the chair behind the table. 

At first, she blamed the boredom. What it was, if you give it some more thought, something plausible. If she had been interviewed for the place for him, her legs would have been betrayed more severely than ever and her head would be threaded in a cold oxygen tray once completely out of that boring building. His interview was led by a gentle and blond woman, with a forced smile and crooked teeth, which was nothing combined with his current employer. Then the next morning when she entered the elevator and noticed an elegantly curved man against the door with a striped suit, she thought that could be a good job after all, but the whole thing did not last. When the mirrored box hit the fifth floor the man was still silently stuck beside him, with a crooked nozzle that could reach a wall and lengthy hands stuck in the front pockets as he looked at the illuminated panel of the elevator as if he She was no longer finding him so interesting so when at the doors opened and he absolutely did not give a minimum importance to his presence as he pierced the doors hastily in a ruthless and firm silence as he stepped on the ground as if he could break into the ceram But it was not really the first time the girl was caring much more interested than she should in men who apparently did not know how to have a minimally friendly attitude, his head was still stuck in that sordid curve of his duly tight thigh against the oxford tissue of the dark pants. 

Helena Zimmer was a woman with her twenty newcomer years, a underway graduation, three duly dominated languages, a very well positioned apartment in central London and a long history of romances faded to failure with women and men drawing more It was not as if she was seventeen and a problem with her late father. Until she looked at the gray glittering of the clear hair and newly wet from her, much older, boss and her dark suit. Suddenly she was nothing but a girl, reduced in her own existence as she tried to force her own infernal brain to process all the spacious and firm jaw, all the superb scowl and long-offensive hands. His body was on fire at the moment that his green eyes took hers and he opened his mouth, he was still talking when she finally returned to a merely distraction mental state and tried to look minimally decent in his presence.

John Gissing had proven to be the perfect blend of a painfully graceful man with his steep nose and upper lips, and a bastard and unhappy creature as long as he could buy human beings with only one of his checks. It did not take long for that Epifanian to fall on his shoulders, not when he did not make much of a matter of hiding his uncompromising behavior and his words of derision in the midst of one of the meetings with his team. They were Giles and Gwyneth who usually dampened his behavior in front of buyers, his blond hair would be swung in the middle of a particularly uncomfortable meeting and he would be out of the room in less than ten minutes.

There was a lot of speculation about her rapid rise to the presidency of the company, but with just a few months providing her services as a secretary it's not like she could investigate her bloody history and learn a little about her sins, she wished she could, for a long time , if she was sincere, she still wanted. At first she could have changed her own liver to get something, however small, just to make it wilt like a child. Gissing was more than a demon in the early days, he practically dumped his attitude on his table when Helena returned from his lunch and found him reduced to pitiful whispers and a pair of restless eyebrows. He was never vulnerable about himself, there was always that glacial line between his sharp and almost jealous comedy and his energetic and superb self-defense. Whatever they had done to that man before, his personality was a cut-out with his trusting traumas being twisted and molded into behavior so grandly self-centered that he could make him fly and fly over London with just a translucent balloon. The blonde was still perfectly competent, it was necessary to confirm, his presentations, when they were made, were very well remembered as he walked around the table with skillful fingers and eyes as attentive as a fox. Secretly, Helena made a point of pulling that old wooden chair outside Giles' office and positioning it just close enough to the conference room so that she could hear the whole tedious presentation, which became less tedious just by the sound of your voice. Helena had something about the exact hoarse vocal count that he always made sure to score, slowly like a damn torturer while analyzing his own effect on buyers. On Monday that one of the representatives of the French company that was willing to close a contract almost passed out when John whispered his name hummed, the secretary was staring through the crack in the dark curtain and rolling her sharp eyes while sipping her own iced tea. She noticed, with a dangerous look, when the woman with hair as blond as the sun was personally escorted by him to the elevator, she also noticed when the Frenchwoman tucked her own number written in striped paper into the inside pocket of her black jacket. When she handed over the documents that night, Helena did not respond to her boss's greeting and stepped hot inside the elevator.

It was a joke, she warned herself a few months later. It was a little joke to kill the boredom that constantly consumed her on days like these, she could let her imagination run a little further while her eyes were open and she wouldn't blame her own brain when a series of positively and disturbingly promiscuous images of her own bastard boss bending over the table. John Gissing could not be more than an attraction promoted by a series of spectacularly boring and cold days, not when the man looked at her as if she were expendable enough not to deserve a second look, not when he hardly breathed when he was near. enough to smell his perfume, not when he could just blink his grandiose green and mesmerizing eyes to any Frenchwoman with long feet of silky smooth legs and secure her hotel room. Especially when the man did not have relationships, there was nothing about him that could make comfortable houses and loving hugs in the middle of a quickie after breakfast. He would be just another powerfully attractive man just because he is as toxic as any of the addictions that haunted their lives. Helena knew, she simply knew, he would make her visit heaven with his beautiful mouth and then reserve her a first-class ticket to the cold and lonely hell of oblivion.

"You are making that face again." Gilles announced, his beard forgotten making his jaw even rounder and his face just a little less angular.

"This is the only face I have." The laugh the man gave was almost contagious, but the brunette was still heavily weighed down by her own brain in that sparkling web of hazy thoughts. "Give it to me right before I cut your hand off with my letter opener." She chased, lifting just enough so that she could take that half-open package of dark chocolate that the man was trying to hide.

"It is probably time to warn Gissing of his homicidal urges." The partner surrendered, letting his hands take the bar half eaten and falling with his gray pants on the chair in front of his spacious monitor and crossing his hands over his prominent belly. "Along with the terrorist face you are making, it may be a good idea to permanently hire a bomb squad."

"Don't be ridiculous, if I were to put a bomb in that office it would be under your fat ass." Hanagan had been one of his only positive balances taken from this damn place, his recurring bad mood matched hers like a small piece of board with hinged openings and the fact that he was usually just as furious as she, also served. They formed that curious little routine that only they understood, an hour after lunch he would bring a caloric treat and they shared it in the midst of lovely threats of painful deaths and furious jokes. It wasn't exactly a friendship, but it looked a lot like one. She would miss him, she missed him terribly.

The decision fell into her lap just weeks before. It was a hot, sliding Wednesday between a few emails to be forwarded and that pile of documentation delayed enough to bring her aching chills to the unfounded center of her boiling brain, she was working on them when John Gissing came into his office with a briefcase peculiarly seductive and with an illuminated face, it didn't take more than just a few minutes for her shoes to be hitting the rectangular tip of her table and she could feel her musk perfume pierce her nose like an aromatic branch.

"Did you keep that red folder from my desk?" Helena almost wanted to laugh at his intoned face and ridiculously attractive nose, but the secretary held on to all the rest she had left to look up innocent eyes and offer a fake enough smile for him to notice.

"That red folder that you specifically asked me to keep?" The girl countered, resting her smooth chin against the upholstered back of the office chair and staring as the man pushed his face into a painfully beautiful frown.

"I do not know, maybe?" Gissing offered and she fought not to push the pile of pending documents right in the center of her scowling face. Her hands pulled the small rectangular folder attached with worn elastics forward and she captured the small package with bony fingers to offer it with rolled eyes. "I don't know why my actions offend you so deeply, my lack of organization is precisely the reason for your hiring."

"Of course it is, sir." She didn't call him sir, only when she was uncomfortable enough to try to lift that brick wall made of pure plaster and push herself back far enough.

"What is it, now are you mad?" And then it could be funny, it could be comical the way his pointy nose had become more serious and his lips were genuinely curious while his face looked even more abrasive and he questioned it. Suddenly, John Gissing always seemed very interesting in his attitudes, it should be something very present in his god complex that people act according to his metric line properly pointed, but Zimmer was much more interested in escaping his choked voice and going back to your pending tasks. "And now you are not talking to me?"

"I am, I just don't see what I can do about your recent memory loss. Maybe I can provide you with an inventory of all the folders you asked me to keep?" The blond man had the red briefcase clutched to his chest now, a ruthlessly raised eyebrow and slightly curved lips. "Your memory tends to deteriorate over time, you must know, I can always indicate that a doctor is consulted."

"Really funny, is acting a comedian your second job?" The blonde teased, small lines in the corners of his eyes.

"No sir, I work as a part-time secretary and for the rest of the day I watch my body online on porn sites." When Gilles choked on her own water, she noticed that her chocolate mate was leaning slightly against the small metal strainer next to the coffee counter.

"Well, send me the website so I can write a letter of recommendation to your other employer." Helena stared at her face so hard that she could have been completely burned in the hot flames of throbbing hell, but her boss was not smiling, he was leafing through the documents that were once inside the reddish folder and were now lying against his fingers. When he caught her gaze for just a minute and offered a soft twitch of lips that could, with some effort, become a smile, her feet came back into the office and Helena released her own urgent breath.

It was in that moment, in that almost minimal space of time that her brain took to register that the game had reached proportions too complex for her to continue with that. It was one thing to have wet dreams and fantasies with your eyes open with your very superb and closely attractive boss pulling you with his lips urgently and filling you with his hot heat, it was another thing to lose the ability to breathe with just an almost disconcerting comment from the provocative man while he at least gave her an important look. Having platonic passions was a very recurrent sentence in Helena's life, she was almost someone experienced in walking that insecure and fragile path over the unstable bridge of her conflicting and obviously one-sided feelings, as when she developed that specifically dangerous passion about her very married father and very beautiful of his best friend and started to go to his house with eyes that were terribly insecure and an almost dormant need. The man, who was not a profiteer, much to the delight of an older and more aware Helena, treated her with an affection that hurt her heart when she kissed her hair and hugged her infant body. Her friend's father had nothing specifically like John, his former crush had dark hair and blue eyes, a thin beard and stiff limbs as she walked. Meanwhile, Gissing was all white gold hair, green eyes like wet grass and smooth, slow limbs as he moved like a predator with some lone rabbit, his mood made of sulfuric acid and those restless eyebrows were just another pain in the neck. head that she should deal with. Sustaining platonic feelings for someone who would clearly be able to hurt her chest with just a gentle twist of her wrist, was not what Helena had in mind for the weekend, certainly not what she had in mind for that job.

Helena decided that she would resign the following week, end that suffocating and positively dangerous little fairy tale and deal with the details of her financial life in the near future that they could. There would be other offices needing the services of a part-time secretary, there would be uglier bosses with less green eyes and a less sulky mouth and less restless eyebrows and so she and her feelings would be safe enough to stay.

The week turned into two when that small Italian convention invaded the building and the girl was very busy between trying to communicate with the bearded men and balancing a tray of hot coffees for the conference table, two weeks became a month when she noticed that her fingers always seemed frozen whenever she tried to write a minimally decent letter of resignation and that did not make it deeply evident that she was running like the devil could run from the cross, one month became two when Helena proved herself a failure in letters of layoffs and started practicing a short, short speech to formally ask for her bills while trying to keep looking at the floor and never let her true emotions slip through her dark eyes, two months became three until she copied one of the many layoff letters that he found on the first search engine that was able to click, copy and print. Exactly four months and twelve days after she made her decision and realized where she was, Helena Zimmer walked with her white dress tightly wrapped around her narrow waist with a delicately dark belt and heels that could carry her to her, in her right hand resided that one. which was the tenth resignation letter she typed in before she concluded it could do.  
"Are you leaving early today?" John questioned, behind the table sneakily organized and sliding his pale, sensual fingers wrapped in the black fountain pen that seemed to sign something.

"I need to deliver this to you." She announced, feeling her knees weaken slightly when she leaned forward and finally poured the small pale package over the stack of typed papers the man was concentrating on. Gissing curved his brow in curiosity when he noticed the small snow-white envelope, the pen was gently dropped on its side when her fingers dug into the small side opening and pulled out the single, exclusively typed sheet in formal letters.

"What is it?" Her eyes were on the letter but her mouth was slightly curved now, her face had slipped from genuine confusion to a deeply dark disappointment.

"My resignation letter." When Helena finally said it, she had been dreaming about that moment for so long that she could tell, but her voice didn't seem so harshly affected when she announced it in her head.

"Why are you resigning?" He shouldn't ask, Helena punctuated mentally. He shouldn't be talking to her as if his request to leave the company was something perfectly uncomfortable, he shouldn't be looking at them with two perfectly green and genuine stones in curiosity with the paper he still held in his hands.

"I'm leaving before I lose control and put a bomb on your desk, be nice and send a letter of recommendation to my email." It was more comfortable that way, raising a smile that she was hoping to be sarcastic and polite as she spun on her graceful heels, trying to order her legs to remain intact when she returned to her table to collect her belongings and join the elevator. Everything would have gone when your little cardboard box was properly filled and this would be the last time your chest would hammer so hard when it hit the office grounds and went back to your lovely apartment, curled up against the blue walls of your own room and squeezed on his warm sheets while listening to all the most depressing discographies he could find online.

"We can discuss an increase, I mean, a considerably larger amount, if that's the problem." The man always surprised her when he moved like a damned teenager in the skin of an adult, positioning himself quickly between her and the door with a suspicious countenance. "Argue, of course. I'm not letting you extort me so easily."

"Even if the proposal to pull some money out of your vast bank account is tempting, it is not enough. Be minimally decent and stay away from the door." The girl commented, crossing her arms heavily against the prominent neckline of her long-sleeved dress.

"A reallocation of position can also be discussed." The man pursued, mercilessly argumentative.

"Really? Where would you be using a teacher on your team?" Zimmer offered, painfully ironic. "Maybe I could use my educational knowledge to teach you some education, to get you out of my way."

"Tell me what you want, then." The taste of fate for jokes was infinitely worse than Helena's, especially when she had positively dreamed of those words, those exact words leaving those same lips, those words leaving those same lips in this same room. Still, that was not how she had dreamed. With her fighting salty tears and scolding her own hurt chest while biting her bottom lip to keep from crying.

"You can't give me what I want." She whispered, her eyes burning.

"There is very little that my money cannot buy." Her eyebrow went up, maybe it was the painful situation or the slowly everyday form that her words sounded, but it rocked her chest enough that tears misted against her long dark lashes. When Helena carefully uncrossed her arms, wiggled her own head for a second while thinking about what she could do now that she had it, she felt her entire body shudder when she took just one step forward and entered her very personal space. rich and extremely attractive, now a bastard ex-boss. His jaw fit against his palm like a marble statue, as if her skin could be pushed and never broken, she still needed to lean more against his heels so she could reach his narrow lips. The man was a figure of ice against her, as if with just a move of limbs everything could collapse. Helena stared at the green eyes for just an exact second before rubbing her lips against his, she held the back of her neck for a full minute before her entire body started to shake violently and tears streamed down the man's dress shirt against her. When a sob broke through her throat, she virtuously walked away and practically ran to the stopped elevator.

The drive to her apartments was longer than she remembered, Helena concluded when she jumped off the practically empty bus on the lonely corner of her block. Her heels were causing her feet to be powerfully sore when she stepped through the small, half-jammed glass door of the small convenience store stinking of wet cigarettes, living in London came with an advantage, she could find any store that sold a good and cheap bottle of alcohol on any corner at any time of the day. Apparently, in addition to tea, the British insisted on a very well-marked routine of hot drinks and escapes from reality. The tattooed young man who took care of the cashier was lazily smoking his cigarette with colorful eyes focused on the small dumb TV, when she pushed the two packages of dark chocolate, three bags of spicy chips and two bottles of gin, he whistled after storing everything in a white bag.

Her apartment was spotless when her feet practically thanked her for being freed from that infernal grip, she was halfway to her bathroom when she decided to remove her sparkling dress and untie her wavy hair before filling the tub with warm water and spilling so many little ones floral scent cubicles that you could without having to flood your small bathroom. At the exact moment that his legs were deeply sunk into the smooth, slippery porcelain surface against his warm epidermis, his body relaxed like a child, his bones felt less stiff and his muscles were twisting in several places as the water remained flooding each minimum inch of your skin. After the first bottle of gin was already properly sunk in an acidic mixture of lemon juice with tonic water, deposited gently in her inherited crystal glass, she finally managed to think about the latest events. She could not have expected anything very different from that, after all, this was John Gissing in his best style of not enduring change. Her boss had an almost unhealthy aversion to sudden changes, Helena remembered perfectly that afternoon when the cleaning company needed to remove her carpet so that it could be properly sanitized and only for the moment left a substitute, the man almost shouted when he saw the color light from your old rug to be replaced by the dark red of the material you would replace. It took some, many hours, of a Helena fighting coldly against the urge to mount on her stubborn lap and roll in her clothes right there, on the damn dull carpet, until after a long and brilliant discussion with him insisting that it would not be able to work looking at that freak and she informing him, once again, that the sanitation team would return the carpet as a first thing the next morning. John Gissing standing between her and the door just to prevent her team from being mortally tampered with in twenty-four hours only reinforced her thinking. She could, deep down, admit that having taken advantage of her curious confusion just to touch her lips had been a low blow even to her profile, but it wasn't as if she could stay alive without even having a glimpse of what she didn't. it would have. At least not in this life. Helena was already raving about reincarnations and ways that they could really find themselves in other existences and she would have her little feeling consummated amid warm arms and green eyes, when she wrapped herself in that long white shirt and slipped into her silky sheets with a mint smell. Her sleep held her in just a few short blinks of tired eyes and a stubborn tear that the girl refused to admit.

The door was slamming when she was suspended over that suffocating handful of dreamless sleep, at first she thought she dreamed of the noise, the apartment was silent when she finally opened her eyes and stopped in the darkness to try to capture the knock. Until the door was slammed again, and she slid out of bed as she dragged drunken sleepy feet from a whole bottle of gin and tonic. The door slammed again when she tried to hit the little switch in the hallway that was pouring into her small living room, the last time someone knocked so insistently on her door it was the damn upstairs neighbor crawling over to his girlfriend sniffing whiskey and expired urine. Helena swore to herself that if she were the damn black-haired teenager she would kick her thigh so hard it would be worth prosecuting the next day, but when she turned the little bunch of keys in the lock and blinked the door open with sleepy eyes and feeling the cool breeze welcome his practically naked body.

It was not her drunken and practically stunned teenage neighbor, she noted, looking up to admire the pointed face of her, now ex-boss, very wealthy from whom she had just resigned to escape her little platonic and childish passion. Except that he didn't look exactly like her, the ex-boss, her current passion and very positively a bastard dressed in hideous and attractive suits. John Gissing did not do long silent periods of time while her face twisted in that almost confused frown looking at her as if she were a ghost, as if her skin was dead and her head was floating against a dead body.

He was still wearing that navy blue suit with white stripes from earlier and Zimmer wondered what time it was, but when her eyes reached the glass window in the hall, she noticed it was still dark enough to look like early morning. She had gone to bed just after eleven at night, which meant that the man wrapped in an impeccable suit was lying outside his apartment sometime between midnight and three in the morning, she wondered how he managed to get through his conspiratorial and very rude doorman.

"If you tell me what you want, it can be arranged." He finally announced, ordering in his voice so deeply hoarse it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Mr. Gissing, I am no longer your employee, so I will be polite enough to let you know that I am going to close that door in your face." Helena replied, her muscles as rigid as stones. The man had no right to come here to disturb his drunk night's sleep to puncture a wound that had not yet been properly cleaned.

"Just say it." Her boss ordered, her eyes had an almost cruel glow in the slightly yellow shade of the worn light from her corridor.

"If you came here to get some strange kind of caress on your already floating ego, I suggest you stay away from the door." When she yawned and her feet did not move, her hands pushed the door slowly so that the damn man with almost gray hair would just leave her house.

"I just need you to say it." And Helena almost screamed in sheer frustration.

"Your attitudes never fail to be terribly unbelievable, do you know?" With cold, the student clung to her body with tight arms and leaned sideways against her wooden door before rolling her eyes as she assessed the situation. The man had already shown his own insistent urges during the long period of time she worked in front of his office, so if she was smart enough she would end that torture and return to the sleepy path of her bed perfectly and the warm affection. of your sheets. "I wrote my resignation letter because I could no longer work for a bastard idiot for whom I developed an insistent Platonic passion, now that you have your confession, make good use of it outside the building." Helena gripped the door handle so hard that she felt the metal humming against her warm fingers. But the wood did not move when the man put his coated shoulders against it and walked over the threshold with two powerfully long hands grabbing his face like a shell, the former secretary was unaware of absolutely nothing until a door slamming triggered her. heard and his mouth was covered by a pair of hot, wet lips.

It took her more than a moment to register her scent, to understand the taste of the spicy whiskey that was gracing her tongue when the muscle slowly touched hers, licking the seam of her lips. She took another second to finally hold the silky front of her button-down shirt and push herself forward for more contact, Gissing took another couple of steps with her and stopped only when her back was warm against the cold wall next to her. side of her door and the thin fabric was minimally decent to support some barrier between her skin and the cold plaster. But she was sighing between the silky contact of his hot lips sliding very slowly against her mouth, her alcoholic tongue licking inside as if she were a very sweet kind of damn lollipop and her elegant hands tangled between her hair and her waist.

When the lack of oxygen was clearly affecting his own brain, as that alone and exclusively could explain why that strangely powerful and unfairly attractive man was dripping his wet lips down the hard line of his jaw, slipping kisses to the left side of your neck and capturing that piece of sensitive skin just above your pulsating jugular vein with sharp teeth. Helena was positively convinced that this was another one of her very vivid dreams where she would wake up very wet surrounded by the incessant solitude of her huge lighted double bed, and if that was her dream, she could enjoy it. She was pulling the thick fold of her navy blue jacket out of her arms, she wanted to touch it for so long that her hands seemed to shake with just the glimpse of her real skin. The button on the garment echoed to the floor when it fell and her mouth was on his again, but she needed some effort to be able to push herself up high enough to touch her lips and he, a fantasy of her drunk subconscious, of course, noticed . Her arms were against her hips now, running up the thin hem of her shirt as pale as milk and touching the sides of her bare thighs with her phalanges.

"Helena, tell me that you are not naked under that shirt." Her dreamy voice whispered as she pulled the sensitive flesh from her right lobe, she could come with just warm breath against her skin and her words floating up to her brain like radioactive smoke.

"Get your proof." She replied, trying to work blindly against the damn kids buttons on her tight shirt, but since the man in her dreams was obviously not interested in helping her with her task. Everything was more difficult. Everything had become impossible when his warm palm slid to the soft curve of her ass and his warm breath melted the flesh on her neck, John moved his left hand up to the flat of her belly, dribbling her navel while taking her breast very easily in your hand. It seemed crazy, that she was consciously fantasizing in her drunken sleep with her ex bastard boss having a hand just the right way to hold his chest inside her with almost deadly ease. "Take it off, take it off please." Helena noticed a sting so fervently imploring in her tone that it almost startled her, but her blood was running so loud in her ears, I lift it to a completely different place where her chest could be cut open and she would show it each of her own. pulsations willingly.

John didn't waste another minute with the dress shirt, pulling his wide hem from inside his pants and pulling it over his head to reach an arm around her waist and bite that delicate piece of her right shoulder. The man's skin was soft enough to make her almost catch fire, when her fingers hooked against the deliciously warm extension of her stomach and rubbed her palms against his shoulders until he held the back of her neck and kissed her mouth with almost devotional care. . It was she who started to move, it was only a few frustrating meters to her room, but the seconds became a colorful mess of hands and feet bumping into anything and everything until her feet recognized the soft fabric of her downy carpet. The moment Helena unbuttoned her navy blue slacks, the man took her hand in his and slid into bed with him in an almost awkward way until his dressed knee landed on the mattress and he lifted his hips until she had her hair tucked in. pale pillows. "Helena, if you touch me now I will come as a teenager." He pointed, one hand pinned to the mattress and one hand to her cheek.

"God! You are so old." The smile that shone on her lips was so everyday that it made her heart jump so high it could reach the sky. Her thought was lost when she fell, or rather, he made her fall from a height high enough to break each of her bones like porcelain. Suddenly, there was nothing about her at all rational, not when that man was moving as slowly as a snake on his body, pushing his thin shirt into a pile of fabric on his belly when he bent down and licked his stomach. Her hands held the sides of her waist and when her nose dragged as slowly as she could to the round curve of her left chest, she stopped respecting, oxygen was a deadly drug and her body was disintegrating against her skin. Gissing released the shirt with a gentle tug, before licking her mouth with the promise of a kiss and crushing the smooth skin of her now naked breast, with the suffocating tip of her sharp nose. By that time, Helena was languishing in the heavy clouds between reality and fantasy, stroking the blond hair between her fingers as she felt her hot breath on her nipple before he licked the sensitive skin, brushing his teeth painfully on the cheeky tip and then bending it with your malicious mouth. The girl pushed herself so willingly against her mouth that it could reach an irreversible point, her hand went down to those shorter strands at the nape of her neat neck when he grabbed her other breast and pulled the nervous button with his warm thumb. Until he rolled, he slipped from her breasts with a curious mouth, her belly shivered only with his hot breath and by the time he reached the torturous point in the center of her legs, Zimmer was getting ready to wake up. She almost protested, forcing him to climb back up just to try to keep him planted in that hazy fantasy reality.

"The things I'm going to do to you." He whispered, more to himself than to reach her ears. The very second that the nasal bridge touched the inside of her left thigh, she was moaning with tingling lips, but the man appeared to be made of stone when he held his torture up to the plain of his hip and came back licking the tendon on his right thigh, biting the sensitive flesh of your waist before placing one of your legs on your shoulder and sinking against your lips. He was so ridiculously suspended that he almost drunk her again, she felt his breath first, his breath prominent in contrast to the moisture accumulating more and more. She felt the wet curve of his mouth slide down to her wet folds, and the moment she was squinting, he licked sweetly in an almost intoxicating circle.

Helena was fighting on her own body like an unscrupulous woman, circling her hips as painfully as she could, but two hard hands were holding her in place now and all she could feel was the pleasurable slide she experienced in his flesh. He looked almost hellish, first his tongue moved from side to side slowly, then he circled her clit with large and then smaller designs, when he experienced a slow back and forth, she whispered his name as if she were suffocating. He didn't need to look at her to understand, her tongue was relentless now as he shifted slightly to circles just to make it last before slipping a wet finger in its warm folds. One finger turned two and her tongue was rubbing itself so positively that when he sucked on it with urgent lips, she moaned from a corner without turning and fell.

She hoped to wake up when she opened her eyes again, she was convinced that she would open her eyes to the monstrous and dictatorial emptiness of her bed, so she would take a hot shower and come back to try to find what she had left in the dream world. But when she blinked with almost sad eyes, the first thing her dark irises registered was the male torso lying on her belly as she snaked whispering kisses across her warm skin. "It is not a dream." Zimmer whispered, finally extending a hand through the blond strands. John Gissing applied his best and most sensual restless brow as he went up on his knees to kiss her mouth, she felt the content of his orgasm against his tongue and almost gave up on being conscious, but he was without pants now and the cotton of his last piece was becoming a physically impossible barrier. Helena reached for a hand on the edge of her cohesive existence and slid warm fingers against the soft rubber band, pushing the fabric down and down as she distributed kisses against her chin, moving down and down until it attacked her target neck and when the fabric was gone she was biting your lower lip. When that hideously treacherous man nudged her jaw with a hard nose so he could capture her mouth, she finally became very aware of the metallic condom packet leaving her chest, the material remained intact against her fingers for a second before she felt his skin. hot and sensitive to touching, right there. Helena Zimmer had absolutely never dreamed of rolling a condom wrapper on her covert and self-centered boss's cock, but when the wet crown slid so ardently comfortable against her, her body had been reduced in a bunch of mixed chemical reactions just at once.

"Helena, say it again." He murmured, a warm hand freeing his face from the wavy hair and his wet mouth sucking on his. But she didn't think she could speak, not when her green and absolutely so green eyes were so close to her that they could be hers. "Tell me, say what you want." And he was sliding her down so deeply, she could feel him sliding one of her bones into the house as if he were picking her up. Helena Zimmer touched his mouth to hers, she needed to close her eyes to gather enough strength and make her throat work. His right hand spread his thigh against his hip when he pushed with a thud so deaf that it was adrenaline being injected into his veins, the heat from his hip was spreading against her like a terminal illness, the strength of his thighs was beating and taking you further from your conscious state.

"Is that you." She breathed into his mouth. "You, I want you." Someone was breathing, in the middle of her lung in the middle of her nose against her cheek, in the middle of the blond strands of her hair giving her skin small bites. "Please! Give me you." Helena stared at her face twitching with long, thick eyebrows, the man groaned in her mouth when her attacks lost their rhythm and the heat spread over them like a suffocating ray of light.

Her words went up to the nape of her neck, they spread in her bloodstream and fell exactly where they were joined until each of the syllables blew out in her chest and he kissed her mouth so hard that it hurt. He was giving it to her, that's what her head registered, very deep in clear water. He was giving it to her. Him. Sometime between his conscience looking detached from his body and a sudden cold running down his skin, he was far away and the door to his bathroom was opening, but before she could answer anything else they had warm arms against her waist and hands hot on her back and she was inside a fire. The sheets were warm again, it was all a deeply sensual dream when she felt her breasts firmly pressed against a smooth, smooth surface, she registered her left hand intertwined but all her brain continued to project was the mind-blowing scent of the skin against her nose. 

She drowned and failed to reach the surface.

When Helena woke up, definitely, with a clasp of orange light tingling on her bare thigh, she didn't want to open her eyes. The girl was readily prepared to stay asleep until that dream floated back to her like a goldfish. But her bladder was full and all the gin she'd ingested indescribably the night before was more than ready to leave her body, when she finally opened her eyes, she was promptly staring at an extension of her pale back with slight tanned black spots. She looked up, registering the small curve of the naked nude and the blond hair, almost completely white there, illuminated by the soft cracks in the heavy curtain. Before the glimpse of the night her drink forced her to believe it was a dream to take her, she slipped into the bathroom with silent feet and a shiver of cold on her body. Zimmer brushed his teeth as slowly as she could, her bladder relaxed and her limbs felt colder than ever. The man was still there, even after the alcohol seemed to drain from his system and sleep was not an emergency, he was still there. John Gissing was still completely asleep between the sheets of his bed, with his damn head lying against the pillows she had chosen, the bastard was spread out against her mattress as if dominating him and she was almost drooling when she returned to her place, rubbing his ridiculously cheerful nose against the soft epidermis and rising to the exposed nape of the neck.

Helena registered when he moved, a deeply long breath making the muscles in her back flex when she sank her face so tightly against the silver hair on the back of her neck, sliding her fingers completely anxious against her arm before stroking her scalp and biting her. ear. "For God's sake, woman! I'm not twenty anymore, old people need to sleep." Her first impulse was to laugh, but when her choked voice hit each of the best nerves in her body, she truly groaned against her ear.

"Fuck, your voice." She almost cried, but her ex-boss was already moving, her long, naked body was spinning against the sheets until a yawn escaped her tight lips as her sleepy, narrow eyes focused on the slightly orange morning light. Before Helena could form any coherent sentence to start a duly important and very urgent conversation, there were warm, graceful lips against the hidden curve of her neck and she forgot what he was supposed to talk about. There was absolutely no logic within the gray matter working inside her brain when the agitated hand grabbed that soft part of her thigh, tucking a thigh deliciously into hers and fishing her collarbone with white teeth. "You are late for work." She managed to say, half moaning as she forced her hips down to touch her wet nerves against him.

"I am the president of the company, I am the one who makes my schedule." John replied, his voice trailing like hot, sensitive arousal connecting a single nerve in his ear directly to her needy pussy, the ex secretary moved her hips lower until finally the man pressed his thigh against her hard enough to make some pressure and his lips were moaning.

"I will not be your secretary again." She moaned, moving in anxious circles against his thrusts when he started stroking with long fingers.

"Why not?" An index finger slid inside her, his thumb stopped suspended against her nervous button accumulated in tension. Her green eyes were staring with a sleepy glow.

"You are a terrible boss." Helena pointed out, trying to move as she struggled to recover the stimulating movements of her hand, but her ex-boss was very interested in staying still. "Move on."

"I'm a great boss, you were always in a bad mood." Her argument was valid, but the girl gave her a look strong enough to suppress that widely sarcastic expression on her eyebrows.

"I hope this isn't just you trying to get an employee back." Helena finally confessed, and the man with almost white hair attacked her mouth so violently that each of the oxygen particles in her body burst like poison against her bloodstream.

"If I were trying to recover an employee, I would have offered free access to my bank account." The student strangled a laugh when her body covered hers, an anxious hand between her legs and lips brushing her chest.

"Intelligent man." The brunette moaned, feeling her clit slowly drawn with constant circles.

The sun was properly hanging over the gray sky of smoky London when John Gissing came out of his bathroom in a mist of hot water, a white towel against her narrow hips and that almost delicious curve of her prominent stomach attracting her eyes when she swallowed more. a sip of your warm black coffee. He raised an unforgivable eyebrow, putting the black frame back on her face and walking over to sit beside her around the graceful little glass table. In all the months they had shared the office, she had never envisioned him eating anything but small snacks and steaming cups of coffee, and here was this man twice her age pouring herself into that flowered china cup she won from her university friend and biting on a buttered toast.

"There are still things of yours in the office." Her voice pointed out, as she huddled against the white robe and chewed that piece of fresh melon. "I can bring it to you later." And she raised an eyebrow, realization falling into her lap like a tearful child. Was that her twisted and smug way of asking if he would be welcome for another night? But the man was not looking at her, his green eyes under the black glasses were focused on the black liquid in her mug.

"My class ends at ten today." Helena informed him, her wet hair sliding down her face and pinning herself against her temple.

"We can have dinner after your class." Gissing explained, rubbing the knife with strawberry jam against a new slice of bread and biting.

"Are you going to pick me up then?" If she was almost laughing when she noticed the nervousness in her bones, she wouldn't say.

"Yes." Her eyes finally caught hers.

"And are you going to sleep here again?" She was very willing to make him shudder in his senses, she deserved some revenge for the endless months of his contagious bad mood.

"If you want, or we can sleep over at my place."

"Unrestricted access to your home?"

"If that's what you want." He reaffirmed, in the same professional tone that he used at the conference table.

"Anything I want?"

"Anything." Her coffee cup was empty when Helena walked on the cold floor until she sat very delicately on her white towel-covered lap, rubbing her hands gently against his bare torso and dragging an anxious kiss across the pale skin of his white neck.

"Even you?"

"Mostly that." The businessman practically groaned when Helena touched his ear with his teeth.

"Your bank account too?" She smiled, biting her earlobe.

"This can be discussed." John Gissing laughed as he pulled the loose knot from his robe and put his mouth on hers, his tongue was rubbing the remnants of the tangy taste of the red fruit jam while she was too frozen between laughing and trying to kiss him back. Breakfast was forgotten when they spread out on the cramped sofa, in the anxious half-time that Helena insisted that the bank account would be an important point of that transition and John snorted against his lips whispering a mixture of short and some bad words. "Is it part of your fantasy to extort me?" He smiled against her mouth and Helena laughed.

"Yes sir."


End file.
